


Rules of the Dark

by marginalia



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Community: contrelamontre, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-04-12
Updated: 2003-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-07 21:32:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10369908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marginalia/pseuds/marginalia
Summary: Contralamontre predawn challenge.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Contralamontre predawn challenge.

"The harsh light of day" is a phrase that's never made sense to Miranda. Daylight isn't harsh, dark is. Daylight glows, softening the edges around everything, but darkness is jagged, reforming her boundaries.

She awakes, resigned, barely bothering to glance at the clock. Liv, breathing heavily in her sleep, receives even less notice. Miranda follows her predawn routine - she washes her face and examines the ever-increasing circles under her eyes, listens briefly to Liv's dream world mutterings (tonight something to do with the Raspberry King), and then down to the kitchen, where she pours a glass of apple juice - comfort - and flips through a catalog - habit.

The time on the microwave matches the price of her last latte, and Miranda steps to the door, running her hands through her hair in an absurd attempt to comb it. Her hand at the latch, she hesitates as always. There's something vaguely rebellious about being out of doors at this hour. All good insomniacs are watching infomercials and doing the Times crossword, but Miranda breaks the unwritten law of the night and steps outside.

She walks beside the path a while, struck by the sensation of the dew between her toes, cool and wet. Thumbs hooked in the waistband of her boxers, she balances, stretches out one pale, moonlit leg, and wriggles her toes in a wave.

Feeling chilled and only a bit silly, she sits on the porch steps. Pulling her legs up tight to her chest, she rests her chin on her knees and hums softly, pushing away at the New Zealand night.

Creaking from behind her breaks the stillness, her temporary union with the dark. Liv, still rubbing one eye, childlike, with her fist. "Again?" she says, quietly, equally aware of the rules of the hour. Miranda nods, still looking out into the darkness of the yard. Liv reaches down, takes her hands - tiny half moons cut in the palms - and pulls her to her feet. Rubbing a slow heat into Miranda's arms, she leads her back up to bed. Liv holds her until she warms and sleeps. Then Liv turns on her back, gazing up at the jagged edges of her own darkness and fighting the chill of the never-ending night.


End file.
